


ink your name across my beating heart

by LadyMerlin



Series: I’m not an idiot (speak for yourself) [2]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Enthusiastic Consent, Established Relationship, Fluff, Humour, Hurt/Comfort, Idiots in Love, M/M, Mildly Possessive Behaviour, Miscommunication, Misunderstandings, Non-Sexual Intimacy, Tattoos
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-21
Updated: 2018-02-21
Packaged: 2019-03-19 01:15:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,720
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13693827
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyMerlin/pseuds/LadyMerlin
Summary: “No, Iwa-chan, we can’t have sex today. I’m having my period,” Oikawa says with a straight face and immense dignity, which is a miracle because that trash like that shouldn’t have any dignity at all.“Oikawa,” Iwaizumi says, because he really doesn’t know where to start and that seems as good a place as any, “what the fuck kind of shows have you been watching?”





	ink your name across my beating heart

“No, Iwa-chan, we can’t have sex today. I’m having my period,” Oikawa says with a straight face and immense dignity, which is a  _miracle_ , because that trash like that shouldn’t  _have_  dignity at all.

“Excuse me?” is all Iwaizumi can bring himself to say, because, what? He hadn’t even been  _asking_  for sex.

“I know what you’re like, Iwa-chan,” Oikawa says primly, smile twitching in the corner of his lips, the only concession to the role he’s playing, hands on his hips like he’s some little housewife. No one can pull off an apron like Oikawa can, and Iwaizumi is speaking from experience. “One kiss turns into two and three and the next thing you know it, you’ll have me tumbled under some tree with my skirts around my ears.”

“Oikawa,” Iwaizumi says, because he really doesn’t know where to start and that seems as good a place as any, “what the  _fuck_  kind of shows have you been watching?”

“There’s this new Korean drama, if you must know,” Oikawa says, beaming at him so brightly that Iwaizumi wonders if someone’s knocked out his brains and lit up a lightbulb behind his face that emits light every time the moron opens his mouth.

No, Iwaizumi wonders if someone knocked  _his_  brains out years ago and he just never noticed. That would explain a lot of things, if this whole thing was just a coma dream. Maybe he’d been accidentally dosed with something at the hospital?

“You’re not wearing skirts,” Iwaizumi says dumbly, because really, he isn’t. Oikawa isn’t wearing anything except boxers – and  _stolen_  boxers at that. If he checks, he’s pretty sure he’ll find his name written on the inside, not because his mother thought he was likely to lose his pants but because Oikawa has an unholy obsession with labelling all his things, like he wants them to really  _belong_  to Iwaizumi before he steals them for himself. It’s weird. Oikawa is weird.

 _God_ , Iwaizumi loves him.

Even when he’s looking scandalised and befuddled like this, like he hadn’t even realised he wasn’t wearing a skirt. Which, really, isn’t an image Iwaizumi needs complicating his life even further. “See!” Oikawa wails, bringing him back from his own thoughts, “I stopped paying attention for a split second and you stole my skirt straight off my body!”

Iwaizumi wonders idly what the neighbours think of them, whether his reputation was ruined beyond repair when Oikawa screamed like he was being murdered because he saw a spider in the bathtub. Maybe they think he’s a murderer. Maybe, if he actually murders Oikawa someday, they’ll be his character witnesses, to say that knowing Oikawa, it was totally provoked.

“Okay, I really don’t know what’s going on here, but it’s okay if you don’t want to kiss me,” Iwaizumi gets back to the crux of the issue, and the way Oikawa had winced and pulled back when Iwaizumi put a hand on his hip and tried to kiss him.

Really it’s okay. He’s not hurt. Oikawa isn’t his possession – he’s allowed to say no. “I guess I’ll just see you later, then.”

The atmosphere in the apartment is flat when he leaves, and Oikawa looks a little bewildered, like he’s not sure how the teasing conversation went so wrong, so quickly. Iwaizumi pretends he isn’t upset by Oikawa’s refusal to kiss him goodbye and his flinch away from Iwaizumi. He’ll see Oikawa tomorrow. Maybe he’s just being dramatic about the kiss.

Oikawa loves him, he’s sure of it.

-

Oikawa is an idiot, he concludes the next day in the evening, when he gets home from his shift and discovers that Oikawa has instituted a neighbourhood wide gathering. Not that he hadn’t already known that, of course, Oikawa’s been an idiot since forever, but this really takes the cake.

“Uh.” He manages when someone catches sight of him and goes pale.

“ _Found him_!” someone else yells, and okay he really doesn’t even know these people. 

Oikawa comes tearing down the steps of the building and barrels straight into Iwaizumi’s bewildered arms. Everything in Iwaizumi is bewildered, because what? There must be a hundred people milling around the courtyard, watching this. Some of them are wearing green ribbons, and others wearing blue, like a proper search party is being planned.

What?

Oikawa’s blubbering in his arms and he’s a  _really_  ugly crier, but Iwaizumi can’t help but find it endearing, likely because he’s got some sort of Stockholm syndrome, or because Oikawa’s been hypnotizing and/or drugging him every night since they were thirteen. He’s got ugly red blotches all over his face and his hair is a proper birds’ nest and he looks less put-together than Iwaizumi has ever seen, except that time they lost to Karasuno and didn’t get to go to Nationals.

Fear suddenly ices his heart. Maybe something bad… “What happened?” he asks urgently, stroking Oikawa’s hair as gently as he can. “Are you hurt? Is Okaa-san okay? Otou-san?”

“They’re all fine,” Oikawa bawls, looking up at him and starting to cry all over again, “but I couldn’t find you and you didn’t come home last night so I thought you’d run away from me or you’d  _died_ ,” he yells, and it’s – it’s too much, too much to be happening in front of a greedy audience.

Iwaizumi pulls Oikawa into his arms and tucks his face into the crook of his neck, not even minding that Oikawa is going to get his shirt all wet and snotty. “Okay everyone, I think there’s just been a really big misunderstanding. I think you can all go home, we’ll be fine.” He keeps stroking Oikawa’s back until everyone is gone, and then ushers his crying,  _insane_ boyfriend back into their apartment.

“What on earth happened, Tooru?” he asks, as gently as he can. Oikawa refuses to be parted from Iwaizumi, latched on like a leech or an insect of some sort. Iwaizumi resigns himself to living an alien life from now on, with a human being superglued to his chest. It doesn’t feel like a good time to joke about it, though, so he sits down backwards onto their couch and pulls Oikawa with him so that he’s lying on top of Iwaizumi. Pressed so close, he can still feel sobs hitching through Oikawa’s body and it’s enough to break his heart. “Tell me, darling, what happened?”

“You left me,” Oikawa says, soft but with an undertone like he’s furious at Iwaizumi for making him even say it. But that doesn’t make any sense to Iwaizumi, at all.

“I haven’t left you, Tooru? I’m here?” He can’t keep the bewilderment out of his tone and he knows he’s missing something here.

“You haven’t been home for two days, since yesterday morning. And you haven’t been answering your calls.”

“I’ve been on shift, Tooru, I swear. And uh,” he blushes a little at this. “Someone vomited on my phone and I, well.”

Oikawa looks understanding. “You’re a sympathetic vomiter, I know.” Then  _real_  understanding slices through all of it and Oikawa looks a bit like a stunned fish. “You’ve been at the hospital all this while?”

Iwaizumi nods hesitantly. “Yeah, Tooru, where else would I have been?” It’s a genuine question, because really, Iwaizumi is the least social person he knows.

Oikawa sobs again, but it sounds like relief this time. “I thought you’d  _left_  me, Iwa-chan,” he says, and it  _still_ doesn’t make sense – where was Iwaizumi going to go? His whole life is here, with the man, sitting in his lap. Right here.

“Why would I leave you, darling?” and the endearment just slips out because Iwaizumi isn’t used to being gentle, but he wants to be; he wants to be the softest thing that Oikawa has ever touched. Oikawa only sobs harder, and it sounds like it hurts, like every broken sound hurts on its way up, and every gulp of air hurts on its way in. Iwaizumi holds Oikawa as tightly as he can until the crying stops.

“Because I didn’t kiss you yesterday,” Oikawa mumbles, and god, Iwaizumi hadn’t even remembered that.

“Oikawa, you  _moron_ ,” he says, rapping the back of Oikawa’s head sharply. “What the  _hell_? You’re allowed to not want to kiss me?” and it’s not a question, but Iwaizumi can’t believe he has to explain something so basic. “I can want to do all sorts of things and you don’t have to, and I won’t be upset about it? And even if I am, you don’t have to do this!” he says, incredulity sharpening his tone.

“Iwa-chan – Hajime – I know. You don’t have to tell me. But it’s not that I don’t want to kiss you,” Oikawa starts and Iwaizumi cuts him off.

“Don’t be an idiot, Tooru. You don’t even have to explain yourself to me. I just don’t understand how you could even think I’d leave you.”

“You didn’t come back, Hajime, and you didn’t go back to your parents’ house, and I couldn’t find you. I thought you’d left because you were angry at me.”

“I’m not! I wasn’t!” Iwaizumi protests. “I mean, I love kissing you so I was a little sad, but I wasn’t angry! How could you think I’d left you? You should trust me more!”

“I do,” Oikawa whispers, and then again, louder, “I do, Hajime. I trust you so much, but I thought maybe I had become too much for you to deal with, and everyone always says—”

“Fuck what everyone else says, Tooru. I’m not leaving you unless death itself pulls me from you, I swear it. I’ve waited so long to be yours, I wouldn’t throw it away just because you were being weirder than usual.” Tooru laughs and chokes on a bit of snot and it’s ugly and  _hilarious_ and Iwaizumi loves him so much he can’t even  _breathe_  for it.

Then Oikawa sits up and pulls his shirt off. Iwaizumi’s hands automatically go to rest on his hips, the position as familiar as breathing, before he thinks about it. “What are you doing trashykawa? We don’t have to have sex if you don’t want to, you know?”

“Iwa-chan, you’re such a gentleman, of course I know.” Oikawa’s tone is gentle and sweet, and Iwaizumi can’t help but trust it like he always does. “I’m too exhausted to have sex right now, I didn’t sleep all of last night, but I have something to show you.”

Iwaizumi tamps down on a little twinge of guilt that Oikawa had been so worried, but Oikawa breaks him out of it by pulling one hand from his hip and guiding it down a little lower, to where his sweatpants sit low on the curve of his ass. Really, Oikawa’s choice in clothes is truly devastating, he’s not sure how he’s supposed to remain sane when Oikawa’s wandering around like this all the time.

Then his fingers run across something that feels like cloth bandage, like a dressing he’d apply to a wound in the hospital. He sits up a little bit, but Oikawa doesn’t move from where he’s perched, on top of Iwaizumi’s hips. “Is this a bandage?” he asks, a little redundant. “Are you hurt?”

“Not really,” Oikawa says, smiling at him brightly, almost outshining the dark circles beneath his eyes.

“What does that mean?” Iwaizumi barks, and then Oikawa is twisting a little to peel the bandage away from his skin before Iwaizumi can protest, tell him to keep the dressing on.

Beneath it is familiar black writing. His own handwriting, his own signature, in fact.

Iwaizumi’s jaw drops, and he can’t stop looking between the ink permanently pressed into Oikawa’s skin and the shit-eating grin on Oikawa’s face, looming above him like a Cheshire cat in a tree. It’s his name, literally tattooed into the curve of Oikawa’s hip, just above the gorgeous divot in the small of his back on the right. His signature in his own hand, permanently marking Oikawa as his own.

“Tooru?” he whispers, because he’s fallen and hit his head somewhere, surely, this can’t be real. “Tooru, really?” he asks, because it’s not possible,  _no way_.

“Really,” Oikawa replies, still grinning, and then guides his hand to rest on the marking itself, where the lines are slightly raised and distinct underneath his fingertips.

Iwaizumi lets his fingers swipe across the writing once and then again, because he can’t believe – Oikawa’s body is perfection, and now he’s got Iwaizumi’s name on him, as permanent as a  _brand_  and Iwaizumi’s mind can’t even take it.

He looks up at Oikawa who’s still grinning. “This is why you flinched away from me?” he asks, because that part suddenly makes sense.

Oikawa nods and his grin fades a little. “It’s still a little sore. I’d never flinch away from you, Hajime. Not from you.”

And great, now Iwaizumi can feel a sob crawling up his throat, and his eyes are watering and he knows his chin wobbles when he’s about to cry. “Oh my god, Tooru,” he whispers, because yup, there’s really no stopping this one. “You’ve turned me into a cry-baby,” he whispers and touches the tattoo again. He’s pretty sure there’s rules about how soon tattoos are safe to be touched but Oikawa isn’t an idiot – he probably knows best. After all, Iwaizumi has had never had a tattoo before.

“Oh, Iwa-chan, you’ve always been a cry-baby.”

The way Oikawa squeals when Iwaizumi pinches him is entirely gratifying, and more than a little arousing because of the way he squirms against Iwaizumi’s hips. The little shit definitely knows what he’s doing, so Iwaizumi doesn’t hesitate to pinch him again, and laughs when he whines. “You’re such a brute, Iwa-chan!”

“Make up your mind, Tooru, am I a cry-baby or a brute?” he asks, returning Oikawa’s teasing smirk with his own. The tattoo is still there, dark against Oikawa’s pale skin, constantly snagging his attention from the corner of his eye. Iwaizumi wants to touch it with his fingers, and then maybe taste it with his tongue, though he knows that’s not hygenic at this stage of healing.

“You’re  _mine_ , Iwaizumi Hajime,” Oikawa whispers, yanking his attention back to his face with how deep his voice has gone, low in his chest. “You’re mine,” he says again, and bends at the waist to his face is closer to Iwaizumi’s.

“Yours,” Iwaizumi agrees, because there’s nothing else he’d rather be. “I’m not leaving you, ever. You’re mine too,” he adds, because he’s not going to come out of this with a shoddy deal. Oikawa is  _his_  and his alone; his burden, his joy, his life.

Oikawa gives him that smile again, like he’s glowing from the inside, like he’s swallowed a bottle of glo-in-the-dark paint. He’s so close that Iwaizumi is holding his breath in anticipation of the kiss when Oikawa speaks. “So does that mean you’ll get a tattoo of my name too?” he asks, out of the blue.

Iwaizumi groans and covers Oikawa’s aggravating face with a palm and pushes him away. Then he groans louder, just to make his point, and to be heard over Oikawa’s irritating laughter. “No,” he says, even though he means yes, maybe. “I want a refund,” he continues complaining, and doesn’t remove his palm from Oikawa’s face. “I swear I have a receipt somewhere, take this one back, give me a new one, this one’s broken.” Oikawa kisses his palm once, twice, and then licks him wetly to make Iwaizumi pull his hand away.

“Bring me with you when you go, okay? Maybe you can get your fingerprints tattooed into me too,” Oikawa adds, and Iwaizumi is hit with a tsunami of lust.

“You’re going to be the death of me,” he complains, but not really. He can’t stop thinking about Oikawa getting his  _name_  inked on his body, really, nothing could possibly beat this.

“But what a way to go, right?” Oikawa asks, and he’s only half joking, Iwaizumi can tell from his tone.

“I’d like nothing better,” is all he can say. After all, it’s the truth.

_-_

_What is we hadn't been born at the same time?_

_What if you were 75 and I were 9?_

_Would I come to visit you?_

_Bring you cookies in an old folks home,_

_Would you be there alone?_

_-_

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by a line from my own fic, "the guy that you deserve", where Iwaizumi wants to write his name on Oikawa's skin. You could read that first, but this should be a standalone.
> 
> The song lyrics at the end come from a ridiculously romantic song by Andrew Bird titled "The Sifters", which reminds me of these two idiot twin flames.
> 
> As always, comments and kudos are super appreciated!


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